


take me for what i am

by watchedyouburn



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: F/M, M/M, Ugh, also julian doesn't die in this fic because fuck you that's why, don't ask me abt george and renée ok, flowershop!AU, i just need them to be happy and in love and they'd look cute together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-08-09 05:52:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7789165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/watchedyouburn/pseuds/watchedyouburn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eugene never talks as much as when he talks about flowers;</p>
<p>or</p>
<p>that one au where Gene is a florist and Babe is a broke college student with a thing for flower crowns.</p>
            </blockquote>





	take me for what i am

**Author's Note:**

> ooooooooooh god i thought i would never see the end of this fic but FINALLY. I MADE IT GUYS, I MADE IT.  
> as u can see if you follow me on tumblr i have fallen into the circle of hell that is shipping the guys from bob and it has destroyed my life so off course fanfic ensued.  
> i am quite insecure about this one? i'm afraid some of the characters (gene) might be a bit ooc & people won't like the whole george/renée thing (idc tho they're cute and george deserves to get his dice). so tell me if you think it sucks. STILL i'd like to say i received great help from the amazing [ Ellie](http://medicgeneroe.tumblr.com/) so once again thank you so so so much for everything!  
> also pls forgive me for that horrendous attempt at a philly accent, i tried my best but we don't have that over here in france.  
> enjoy!
> 
> (translations for french at the end)

Eugene is arranging a bouquet, humming slightly under his breath, when the bell above the door of the flower shop rings. He lifts his head up. He is mentally preparing himself to welcome a new customer when his gaze is met with a sparkling brown, sun-shining like one. The young man whom it belongs to is sporting a bright, shit-eating grin that matches it. For a moment Gene can’t breathe quite right. He doesn’t dwell on it.  


“May I help you?” he asks politely, because he is nothing if not professional. His tone remains miraculously perfectly neutral. He would probably pat himself on the back for being so good at hiding his emotions, but he does have a thing for being particularly thick when it comes down to his own feelings – as Renée keeps reminding him.  


Incredibly enough, the young man’s smile manages to brighten even more. Eugene feels a puddle of warmth fill his stomach. He attributes it to the fact that the other man seems as excited to be around flowers as himself.  


“As a matter of fact yes!” the redhead answers with nothing if not enthusiasm. “I need to buy flowers!”  
Eugene raises an eyebrow, frankly amused, and looks at him expectantly. His customer blushes, seeming to realise how awkwardly obvious his statement is. The florist tries not to think about how endearing he finds it.  


“I mean, off course ‘am here to buy flowers. Duh. Why would I be there otherwise? ‘t’s a flower shop. That sells flowers.” The other man is rambling now, obviously uncomfortable. He starts rocking from one foot to the other in embarrassment. His blush has crept on from his cheeks to the tip of his ears and the nap of his neck and Eugene can’t help wondering how far it can go. He blatantly ignores the thought.  


“You could tell me what kind of feelings you are trying to convey” the dark-haired man says softly. The younger boy stops moving completely and stares at him with big, dumbfounded eyes. Eugene can’t help the beginning of a smile from blossoming on the corner of his lips. He doesn’t tell himself that he finds the man simply adorable. He could, but he doesn’t.  


“Every flower has a meaning, you see. So if you tell me what you want a bouquet for we can start from here and see where that takes us” he explains quietly, his gaze lingering on the flowers before him. Flower-making is a passion his mama had ingrained in him since the tender age of six years old. A florist as well, she had taught him all she’d known. When she’d died in a car accident along with his father, eight years earlier, Eugene had promised to himself that he would carry her legacy. He had fought tooth and nails to keep their small flower-shop open. Although still a high school student at the time, he had started working there every time he could. With the help of his grand-mère – who’d come all the way from the Bayou only to take care of him – and his best friend, Renée, he had successfully kept it from closing down. The shop had become legally his when he’d turn eighteen, and since then not once had he regretted his choice of becoming a full-time florist and not going to university. He remembers how much his grand-mère had been disappointed at his choice, as she felt he had not chosen it for himself, although she had been expecting it.  


But really, Eugene was, _is_ happy. To him, it feels as though working with flowers is a way of communicating with his parents. They live through the scents and the colours that fill his shop. They make him whole and serene in a way nothing else can. True, he is the lonely type, has always been, to be honest, which makes the two favourite women of his life worry. But really, he doesn’t need people that much. He likes the peace and quiet of the flowers.  


Eugene is used to the quiet and the loneliness. In fact, usually Renée is the one who deals with the clients while he takes care of the bouquets. But Renée is on holidays right now, visiting her extended family in Belgium, so it’s up to him to do the communication part right now.  


He lifts his gaze once again. The young man’s eyes have widened even more at his words, which makes him want to smile again.  


“For real?” he asks, surprised. Eugene nods. “Woah, that’s just awesome!” he adds brightly. He moves then, coming closer to the counter, and Eugene uses this as a way to take a better look at him without being too obvious. His short ginger hair frames the soft-edged, willowy face of a boy barely out of his teens. The young man is all awkward, long limbs that don’t quite know where they fit and barely hidden clumsiness, as though he has never quite managed to get rid of that stage in a teenager’s life when they just grew up and don’t really know what to do with their bodies. He looks like a permanently lost puppy, a little boy who was never truly meant to grow up. It makes Eugene’s heart beat loudly in his chest for some reason. It’s a foreign feeling, something he might know but has decided to put away a long time ago, and he forces himself to push it aside.  


The young man is looking around now, seemingly lost again. It is evident he has no idea where to start. Luckily, it’s Eugene’s job to help him out.  


“Let’s start with the beginning. Do you want a single flower or a bouquet? The first option is simpler off course, but you can convey a lot through one single flower. More flowers doesn’t necessarily means stronger feelings” he explains, his voice as soft and as levelled as ever. To any outsider, he sounds professional, since he is just stating facts he must know as a florist. To someone who knows him well, though, his tone is getting a reverent tint that reveals the deep love he has for flowers. But Eugene is hard to read and it’s not something anyone can see just like that. It’s something you earn from spending enough time with him he finally opens up.  


That’s why what the other man says next startles him.  


“Ya really like flowers don’t ya?”  


Eugene stares silently at him, rendered speechless with shock. He always appear as stone-faced and almost devoid of emotions to other people. It’s probably the first time someone sees through his impassive face so quickly. Or maybe the second time if you count Renée. But then again, they’ve known each other since forever; have been like two fingers of the same hand since he moved there from Bayou Chene back when they were seven years old. This? Having someone read him so easily without knowing him? It’s new. And it makes him feel as though he’s losing his balance, somehow.  


The other man blushes again, fidgeting.  


“Sorry. ‘t was rude of me. Big mouth an’ no filters. Please continue. ‘t was real interesting” he babbles awkwardly.  


Eugene smiles slightly and nods. “’S okay. You’re right anyway.” He doesn’t say anything more then, let’s a comfortable silence settle between them. The redhead looks at him, grinning again, before seeming to remember why he’s actually here.  


“So, huh, yeah. Flowers. I’d like more than one but I’m on a tight budget. University student and all that, y’know” he mumbles, running a hand through his air.  


Eugene nods, looking around. “I see. We can put together a small bouquet, nothing too fancy. Who’s it for?” he asks as though it’s nothing important. He can feel his heart beating apprehensively in his chest though.  


The man stops at that, bites his lower lip. Eugene feels his stomach drop. “It’s for that girl… I like?” he says as though he’s waiting for confirmation. “She’s real smart an’ funny an’ pretty an’ I wanna ask her out. But I wanna do it right ya know. My buddy Bill says it’s dumb, nobody does tha’ anymore, bu’ he hasn’t seen himself ‘round his Frannie, see. Can’t gimme any goddamn lesson.”  


The man is rambling again, apparently unaware of it. Eugene ignores the feeling of disappointment that starts growing in his stomach, buries it deeply until he can pretend it doesn’t exist. It’s easier to pretend the ginger’s nothing more than a customer after that. It’s not like he was thinking anything else anyway. He’d just found him endearing; that’s all.  


“Well you might wanna start with some white chrysanthemum then.” He points to a bunch of flowers further along the shop and walks towards them. The other man follows him, obviously interested. “They symbolize truth and loyal love. It will tell her you will stay faithful to her and love her fully. Plus they make a nice base, as they are white and really simple.” He picks four of them, arranges them so as to form a small circle. Then he turns around, his eyes roaming his shop. He strides toward the front of the room, his eyes set on one particular flower. “This…” He picks it up, shows it to the young man. “… is a orange lily. It symbolizes passion, and will be good if you want to convey non-platonic love.” He takes two others and puts them right in the middle of the three other flowers before lifting up his head. His dark gaze meets a smoother one, and he averts his eyes, pretending to look for something else. He picks up a few cornflowers, to use as a discreet way to fill an otherwise quite plain arrangement. “If you don’t want a huge bouquet, I think it’s more than enough to convey what you’re feeling. Now we just have to decorate it and we’re all set. What d’you think?”  


He looks at the other man then and their gazes meet once again. The warmth in those brown orbs has him losing his footing once again. There’s no point, he tells himself. It doesn’t do him any good; dwelling on it. So he doesn’t.  


“Yeah, yeah… sounds ‘mazing. A mean ‘am gonna trust you with it cause ya look like ya know ya shit.” He’s grinning again, the action lighting up his whole face like a goddamn sun. Eugene has truly never seen such a huge and dorky smile before. “What d’we have to do now?”  


The florist focuses his attention back on the bouquet thoughtfully. He walks towards the counter before turning around to look at the other man. “Wait here for a second, I’ll be right back.”  


He disappears behind a door leading to the reserve. There he grabs some plants used as ornament and some light blue papier-mâché before going back to the main room, where the customer is still waiting for him. He starts working silently, the other man watching him intently. He works slowly, carefully, his fingers soft on the flowers as though he is handling glassware. It might be a small bouquet but it does not mean he won’t put all his heart into making it.  


Finally, he straightens up and takes hold of the papier-mâché he’d left on the table. He wraps the base of the bouquet into it before closing it with a piece of white ribbon. He holds the bouquet up in the air, at arms lengths, before turning towards the redhead again. “So? What d’you think?”  


The young man, who’d stay completely quiet all this time – although not completely motionless, Eugene noticed, something that must be impossible for him – lets out a cry of excitement.  


“’t looks fuckin’ amazing! Thank ya! Seriously! Ya’re talented as hell, lemme tell ya!”  


Eugene lowers his head bashfully at the praise, trying but failing at hiding the small smile that makes its way on his lips. He shakes his head, trying to ignore the warm feeling in the pit of his stomach. He needs to get his shit together, now. The bouquet is for that guy’s sweetheart, for Pete’s sake.  


“It’s nothing, really.” He takes out a paper box from under the counter, one that will be big enough that it won’t damage the bouquet, and puts it delicately in it. He ties another white ribbon around it. “So, what’s your budget exactly?”  


The younger man startles at that, seeming to remember that he’s not here just to watch but to actually buy. He takes out his wallet in a hurry and starts sorting out the bills inside. “Huh… Is 20 quid okay? I can get more if ya want. Just got to go to the bank but it’ll take only five minutes.”  


Eugene shakes his head negatively. “Let’s make it 15 dollars. It’s plenty enough for a bouquet this size.”  


His eyes widen in surprise. “Ya sure? It’s ya livin’ we’re talkin’ ‘bout an’ I don’t wanna…”  


Eugene shakes his head again, a small smile on the lips. “Yes I’m sure. Don’t you worry about it. It’s nothing and it’s for a good cause. You go get that girl, you hear me? You give it all you’ve got. That’s enough for me.”  


The redhead looks abashed for a moment, ready to argue maybe. But he must see the set look on Eugene’s face because in the end he just nods and smile. “Okay!” he exclaims, obviously thrilled. He picks up the package and leaves the money on the counter. “Okay!” he repeats. “Thank ya again, ya’re a real saviour! I’ll see ya around!”  


And just like that he disappears, the sound of the ringing bell the only indication he was ever in the shop. Eugene remains standing, staring at the door for a moment, before he sighs and goes back to the work he was doing before that ginger shooting star crossed his sky.

**

  


A couple of months pass by. Eugene tries not to think about fire-like red locks and a blinding smile too much, which is rendered easy by the season. May comes around, bringing with it what he and Renée like to call the “Mother’s day downfall”. She comes back from her holidays right on time for it. It’s Mother’s day that comes first, obviously, with its clusters of customers looking for a gift that’ll show their appreciation for their mama. It’s followed by the warm months of summer and the sensation of holidays and love floating through the air. Most people get married between the middle of July and of September. It’s a particularly busy time for florists everywhere. Eugene has so much work to do he is spending more than twelve hours a day at the shop, arriving before the opening time and leaving long after it’s closed, preparing bouquets and floral arrangements. So far there are three weddings he’s been made to be the main florist on, helping the bride and the groom finding their perfect floral arrangement. Other than that, his old high school has asked him – as they do pretty much every year since he did it back in senior year – to take care of the floral part of the prom. It’s a lot of work but he doesn’t mind. He loves his work, loves the creativity it allows him and the feeling of satisfaction pleasing a client always brings him. Renée jokes that one day he’ll just start living in the shop amongst the flowers, not even bothering to go home anymore. She’s not so wrong. Eugene likes being around flowers. They sooth him, give him a sense of belonging no human has ever managed to since his parents passed away. They give him a purpose in life; that is, to create and embellish. To make people happy and places colourful.  


It’s a Tuesday and the shop has been unusually calm today, compared to the hell it’s been those past few weeks. He is working in the backroom, a bunch of plans for the first wedding – this one is only in a few weeks, at the end of the month – laid out in front of him. He can hear Renée sing under her breath and loitering in the main room, going from one plant to the other and checking that everything is in order. He absentmindedly registers the sound of the bell ringing, too focused on his task to take notice. That is, until he hears a voice he recognises on the spot.  


“Hello!” the ginger boy shouts, the sound carrying on through the open door. He’s as cheerful as the first time they met. Eugene’s head shoots up instinctively and he winces at the pain in his neck. Leave it to him to hurt himself because hearing a voice makes him all fretful. He bites his lips, hesitant.  


“Oh, fuck it” he mutters to himself before abandoning his work. As he is about to walk through the door he stops suddenly, unable to go further. For some reason the sight of the young man – all bright smile and happy demeanour – makes it impossible for him to go any further.  


He watches quietly as Renée emerges from behind a stall filled with different kind of roses, a polite smile on her lips.  


“Hello there” she says in that sweet voice she has, “how may I help you?”  


The ginger man’s eyes widen slightly in surprise. “Oh, hi. D’ya work here?”  


He winces as soon as the question escapes his lips. Eugene has to stifle a laugh; which is quite shocking considering he barely smiles on a daily basis.  


“Fo’get what I said. ‘course ya work here.” He scratches the back of his next bashfully; a gesture Eugene can’t help but find endearing. Off course he pretends he did not just think that. “Just that last time I was there, ya weren’t, see. ‘nd there was that real quiet guy, ya know, he helped me real good pick up flowers so I thought maybe he could help me ‘gain. But ya must know plenty ‘bout flowers too. So ‘s not too bad. I mean not that ya’re bad. That’s not what ‘am sayin’. He was real helpful is all.”  


Renée crosses her arms, clearly amused. Her eyes are sparkling and she looks as though she is on the verge of bursting into laughter. “By ‘real quiet guy’, I assume you mean Eugene?”  


At those words, the young man takes a step back in the shadows. For a reason he can’t quite decipher he doesn’t want to be seen yet.  


The redhead looks at her, dumbfounded. “Eugene?” he repeats. Hearing him say his name makes him feel strangely content. He ignores it.  


“Eugene Roe; the shop owner? Average height, jet-black hair, kind of blue-green eyes, and a face so serious you’d think he is in the middle of a battlefield, not a flower shop. That’s Eugene.”  


The man’s face lights up at those words. “Yeah! Yeah that’s the guy who gave me advice!”  


“I can call for him if you want. He is right here in the back room.”  


“Ah, ‘is okay since ya here already, don’t wanna be any trouble.”  


“You’re not, don’t worry. And he truly is the flower expert here anyway. Nobody will give you better advice than him.”  


The man nods. Renée smiles brightly before raising her voice slightly and calling for him. By that time Eugene has retreated back into the other room. He waits a few seconds before moving again. His face shows no emotion when he sees the red-haired man, but then again it rarely does.  


Renée is smiling knowingly when he walks in. He raises an eyebrow at her, but she just shrugs, her smile never leaving her lips. He decides to let it go for now. Who knows what goes through that Belgian head of hers sometimes.  


He turns to the young man, who shouts him another one of his blinding grin. He answers with a small tip of his head, but that doesn’t seem to discourage the student.  


“Heya there! Nice ta see ya again!”  


“Hello.” Eugene answers softly. “I gather that your first attempt at speaking the language of flowers was successful? You wouldn’t be there otherwise”  


The other man’s smile widens.  


“Yes! Yes ‘t was! Doris loved it. She said sensitive guys the like of me were rare and stuff” he responds, pride apparent in his tone. He looks like a delighted puppy or some shit. It makes Eugene warm all over and he can’t help the smile that makes its way onto his lips. He pretends not to notice Renée eyeing him quizzically in the corner of his vision.  


“That’s good,” Eugene lets out in a breath. There’s something aching in his chest but it’s easy to ignore it. He doesn’t try to understand why it’s there. He doesn’t want to.  


The other man is still looking at him, grinning. A comfortable silence settles in the shop until Renée moves behind the counter, smiling. “So then, I’ll let you take care of our customer, Eugene. I’ll be in the back if you need me. It was nice meeting you, Mr…?”  


The redhead blushes, turning towards her. “Oh yes, sorry! Heffron! My name’s Heffron. But ‘veryone calls me Babe. Please don’t call me Mr. Heffron, it’ll feel very weird.”  


Renée giggles before nodding gleefully. “I see. Well it’s nice to meet you, Babe. I’m Renée.”  


She disappears then, leaving the both of them alone. Eugene is watching the other man sceptically, which he seems to notice as he suddenly start fidgeting uncomfortably.  


“What?”  


“It ain’t your real name, is it?” Eugene can’t help but ask. He is suddenly feeling strangely curious, as though this is some sort of capital information.  


“Nah. ‘is Edward. Edward Heffron” he answers with a grimace. “But only the goddamn nuns call me Edward” he adds quickly, as though this detail is essential.  


“Edward” Eugene repeats, ignoring his last comment. He can see him frown but doesn’t leave him time to correct him. “I’m Gene Roe.”  


“I know” the ginger man – Edward, Gene tells himself – says. “Eh, that is, Renée told me earlier” he explains. Eugene is aware of that, off course, but Edward does not need to know.  


He just nods slightly because it’s easier than answering. The other man looks around the shop before meeting his eyes again.  


“Anyway, huh; I wanted to thank ya for last time. She loved ‘t an’ Bill was all dumbstruck, shoulda seen his face. An’ also, well, my ma’s birthday is comin’ up, see, an’ I figured ya’d be able to help me out again. She’s not that much into flowers but she loves those big green plants I noticed ya had last time, ya know, the creeper ones? An’ I thought maybe ya’d have some nice ones with flowers on them or some shit.”  


Eugene feels another smile form at the corner of his lips. “Well, Edward Heffron, let’s see what we can do ‘bout that.”  


Heffron shakes his head, and Eugene’s gaze gets stuck on the way his locks reflect in the dim light of the shop. “For cryin’ out loud Eugene, I know I’m ya customer and everything bu’ don’t call me that. ‘am Babe.”  


He sounds pretty annoyed. Yet the florist can see his eyes are sparkling in amusement. So he doesn’t answer and starts explaining what kind of creepers they have instead. The smile seems to be glued to his lips.

**

  


It's a few hours later and they are closing the shop when Renée finally gives in.  


She stares at him expectantly. "So. Babe Heffron."  


She doesn't say anything more, obviously waiting for him to give her something.  


Eugene doesn't look at her. He doesn't even seem to react to the name, as though it’s unimportant. "Yes. What about him?" His tone remains completely impassive, something he's quite proud of. Yet his mind is already wandering back to that afternoon and his time spent with the younger man.  


Edward had stayed over an hour in the shop, listening intently to Eugene's rambling about creeping plants and how to take care of them. They'd been talking about the best place to put it and at some point the conversation had drifted to their home-life. Edward had told him how it'd fit right into his mama's garden, back at her house in South Philly. He'd told him about how, growing up, she'd scowl him and his friends for ruining the grass playing soccer and how once they'd thought their time had come because his friend Julian had fallen over the raspberry plants she grew in there. In return Eugene had described his and his grand-mère's house back in Bayou Chene to him, explaining what each medicinal plant she would grow back then did. By the time Edward had left two other clients had come and go. It was also almost time for his meeting with the first wedding's future married couple, which made him more or less late. Thankfully, Renée, the darling that she is, had taken care of finishing the floral arrangement he was making before being interrupted. She'd been wearing a gloating grin the whole time, which he had been carefully ignoring.  


But now it looks like she won't let him simply get away with it.  


"Don't be daft. You know exactly what" she huffs, crossing her arms on her chest.  


Eugene does not answer immediately. Instead, he takes his time putting the orchids away. He can feel his oldest friend starting to get annoyed behind him, so he straightens up with a sigh.  


He has thought about it of course. Thought about this face, this smile and those eyes. About the way they wrinkle around the edges when he grins broadly, or about the way you can hear his laughter and happiness in his voice when he talks. He has thought about those ginger wicks, about the way they'd look in a Louisianan sunset, down there in the dampness of southern summers. He has thought about how it would feel to walk hand in hand with him, to listen to him talk about his family and his life. He has thought about his mouth and how it might taste when pressed against is.  


He has thought about it, but he hasn't.  


"He's straight, Renée. And even if he weren't" he adds with a pointed look before she can say anything, "he has a girlfriend. One I more or less helped him get together with. I am not getting involved with a taken guy, not again. I've already made that mistake once and I've learned my lesson."  


Renée's expression falters at his words. The silence stretches on and he knows she is remembering the events he is referring to.  


It was the summer after their last year of high school. He’d invited her on holidays back in Louisiana. His grand-mère had dragged them here so they could celebrate their graduation the 'Cajun way', as she liked to put it. His uncle had introduced him to a young man their age, Merriel Shelton. They'd spent the whole summer together, the three of them, until at some point the unresolved sexual tension between the two boys had turned into something more. What Gene hadn't known was that Merriel actually had a boyfriend whom he'd met in military school. They had been on and off for the past year. They weren't really together by the time summer came around but Merriel was still deeply in love with him, and ultimately, Gene had ended up with his heart broken.  


No way is this going to happen to him again.  


"But you like him." It isn't a question. Renée knows him far too well for that.  


Eugene sighs before closing the watering cans cabinet. "Yes, I do. But I'm not gonna let it go any further. It's just a mindless crush that'll fade away eventually. I'm probably never gonna see him again anyway, so."  


Renée makes a face at that, one he knows well. It means she wants to say something but isn't sure how he's going to take it.  


He sighs again. "What."  


She bites her lips. "It's just... I really had that feeling that... you guys were hitting it off. And I know you think he's straight" she adds promptly, "but I swear to you Gene, his expression when I mentioned you earlier, I really thought..."  


"Well you thought wrong. _Il est hétéro, c’est tout, il n’y a pas à chercher plus loin._ "  


For some reason, it’s easier to express himself in French in that moment. It puts space between him and Heffron; helps him dissociate himself from his feelings.  


"You don't know that" she counters. "You of all people should know it's not that definite."  


Eugene shakes his head. When their gazes meet again, his is pleading. " _C’est plus simple s’il l’est._ "  


Renée's eyes darken. She looks sad and disappointed; but she doesn't say anything more. Instead, she brushes past him and squeezes his hand in a loving gesture.  


Eugene allows himself thirty seconds of staring into nothingness, breathing deeply, before he follows her into the back room. Fifteen minutes later, as they leave the shop, their arms linked together, she decides to take him to the movies to see the Ghostbusters remake ('You _have_ to see it Gene! So much women empowerment! Also, Chris Hemsworth in glasses'). He protests for the hell of it, knowing very well she won't change her mind. Despite his apparent reluctance a small smile is playing on his lips when they enter the cinema.  


He truly has the best friend anyone could wish for.

**

  


The next time Gene’s life collides with Babe it does so without a shade of ginger showing up.  


It’s well into September and Eugene is feeling restless. The weather is growing colder by the day and the young man can see more and more students from Philadelphia University rush past the shop’s windows every day. The busy months of the year are behind him for now, until Christmas at least, and it’s hard to stay busy all the time. Usually he wouldn’t mind. As long as he is around flowers he’s all good. But that particular day, he just can’t seem to stay put.  


The problem is, it’s been a particularly slow day so far. Renée is seating behind the counter, reading a cooking magazine (‘the art of homemade chocolate dishes: how to throw your life into a pit of sweet pleasure’ says the headline); he’s checking on the state of the plants for the third time already. There has been only one client since they opened and no big order to take care of since the last wedding on September the 5th. It’s so slow Eugene is thinking about telling Renée to just take the rest of the afternoon off.  


That is why, when not only one, but _three_ grown-ass men enter the shop around one o’clock, talking and laughing loudly, the two friends exchange a dubious look.  


“May I help you?” Renée asks, lifting up her eyes from her magazine and closing it up. By then, two of them almost knocked off a pot because of their bickering – which comes with a lot of shoving and pushing around apparently – and the third one is eyeing the flowers as though he is thinking of ten different ways he could prank someone with them. Eugene can’t help but shoot her an impressed look. The mere idea of addressing one of those guys kind of makes him want to puke.  


The smallest of the three (the one who was looking at the flowers in a funny way) looks up then. Eugene can pinpoint the exact moment he notices Renée standing behind the counter. His mouth stretches into a seductive but playful grin and his eyes sparkle as though he’s hit the jackpot. The young florist frowns, but doesn’t say anything. He knows his best friend; she doesn’t like it when he tries to fight her battles for her. And she’s much better at kicking boy’s asses than he is anyway.  


The man – he must be a student, Eugene thinks, he must not even be in his mid-twenties – walks over to her and leans his forearms on the counter.  


“I’m sure you could, sweetheart. I wasn’t plannin’ on buyin’ anything myself, you see, but now that I’ve seen you I figure I could get lovely flowers for a lovely lady with a lovely accent” he responds in such a flagrant attempt at flirting it has to be done this badly on purpose.  


He has the nerve to wink after saying this and Eugene has to resist the urge to snort. This guy is simply ridiculous.  


Renée crosses her arms, looking as though she’s thoroughly annoyed, but Eugene knows her well enough to see the amusement in her eyes. He doubts the man notices, though.  


“Please do not call women you don’t know ‘sweetheart’. It’s derisive and degrading.”  


Her tone is cold but the brown-haired student – Eugene can’t see him as anything but now – doesn’t seem to be too deterred by that. On the contrary, he leans towards her a little more and nods understandingly.  


“I apologise. Didn’t mean to offend you. Although I’d really like to get to know you, ‘specially if it means you’ll let me call you sweetheart afterwards.”  


“I won’t. I’d rather drink a whole galleon of acid.”  


The guy is about to open his mouth to answer when the two other boy finally make their way to the front of the shop.  


“Oy George!” the taller of the two – a rough-looking guy who looks like he’s ready to punch anyone anytime – shouts, “stop botherin’ the nice lady, will ya! She wouldn’t want ya scrawny ass even if ya paid her a thousan’ quid anyway!”  


Next to him, a younger looking man – he can’t be more than eighteen, Eugene thinks – starts giggling madly. The one who was hitting on Renée ( _George_ , Gene’s mind supplies automatically) eyes him, pretending to be extremely offended.  


“How dare you? You’re hurtin’ my feelings here, Bill! I’m hurtin’ real bad now” he mock-whimpers before turning back toward Renée. “See how he hurts me? Could use some comfort from a beautiful girl like yourself to help me sooth this open wound.”  


This launches the third guy into a renewed fit of giggles and George has the audacity of looking – falsely off course – irritated. “Julian, you mind? I’m trying to have a nice conversation over there and your ungracious whaling is makin’ it real hard for me to concentrate.”  


The younger boy – Julian it is – whips his eyes. His cheeks are bright red, as though he stayed in the sun for three hours instead of just laughing. “Like hell ya’ tryin’ Georgie, Speirs’d be more successful than ya an’ not only he’s so gay for Lip it’s gross, he’s socially impaired as well.”  


George pouts, which elicit a small laugh from Renée and a raised eyebrow from Eugene. The mean-looking one – Bill – casts a glance at him then before smiling apologetically.  


“Sorry for those idiots” he grins amicably, “their mama dropped them on their heads when they were little.” He ignores the affronted ‘oy’ Julian throws in his direction. “Anyway” he adds, stressing the syllables so as to show this topic is closed, “we’re not here to find ya a sweetheart Luz, an’ even less to talk ‘bout Speirs an’ Lip’s inability to get their shit together.”  


He turns fully towards Gene then and extends his right hand to him. “The name’s Bill, Bill Guarnere. That John Julian an’ George Luz over here. We’re good friends of Babe’s, ya know, Babe Heffron.”  


Gene shakes his hand, eyeing him curiously. “Yeah?”  


“Yeah, told us all ‘bout ya” the younger of the three – Julian, he reminds himself, recalling some of Edward’s stories featuring this name – chips in. “Ya’re like a freackin’ wizard, man. Like, ya got somethin’ with those damn flowers. Babe’s mum, she loved the gift so much? He didn’t got to do no chores for like, two weeks. That’s some fuckin’ Harry Potter shit right there.”  


Gene blushes at the genuine compliment. He squirms, not really knowing how to answer. Renée lets out a heartfelt laugh, moving from behind the counter to stand next to him. Eugene doesn’t miss how George’s gaze follows her, in awe. It’s quick but it’s here: a depth hidden behind his happy-go-lucky behaviour indicating he’s not all brash flirting and loud talking. He stores the information for later.  


“Pardon my friend Eugene here” she says, smiling to the two young men. “No matter how many times he hears compliment on his talent for flower-making he remains unable to deal with them. I’m Renée. It’s nice to meet some of Babe’s friends; he was such an agreeable customer. How is he?”  


While speaking, she holds out her hand to Julian. He seems a bit taken aback at first but eventually he grins at her and shakes it. Bill does the same before scratching the back of his head.  


“That’s why we here actually. Ya know ‘bout his darlin’ Doris, don’t ya?”  


Eugene nods, ignoring the sour taste in his mouth. It’s been months for crying out loud. He needs to stop this childish behaviour.  


“Yes, we do. He offered her the bouquet Eugene made, right?”  


George, who has joined them by now, nods. Julian fidgets, obviously uncomfortable. In that moment he strikingly reminds Gene of Edward, all young and awkward, as though he hasn’t had a taste of the world yet.  


“Yeah, well. She dumped his sorry ass last week an’ he hasn’t taken it very well” Bill explains, a frown on his brow. It’s obvious he really cares about his friend and is worrying about him.  


Eugene feels his stomach drop. Being pleased doesn’t even cross his mind for a second. All he can think about is a bright, warm smile and how shitty it is that it’s probably not in this world right now.  


Renée purses her lips, a look of compassion on her face. “I’m sorry.”  


Bill shrugs. “’s okay. That’s life. A don’t think it’s that bad anyway. Just wasn’t ‘specting it is all.”  


The young woman nods. Eugene doesn’t react. He stands there thoughtfully for a second before frowning slightly. “What does that have to do with us though?”  


Julian throws him a startled look.  


“You said you’re here because of Edward. How can we help?” he explains, voicing his thoughts out loud.  


Julian grins in relief as George barks out a laugh. “Oh god, that. Thought you were gonna go all ‘the fuck I care’ on us there.”  


Eugene smiles apologetically. “Sorry.”  


George waves his apologies away. “Ah, don’t worry about it. But you’re right; we do need your help.”  


He makes a pause for dramatic effect. Bill rolls his eyes so hard Eugene is afraid they might get stuck.  


“He’s been talkin’ about your shop all the time, you see” George goes on explaining after he’s certain he’s made his impression. “So we figured, since you’re all about the language of flowers and stuff, you could find somethin’ that’d mean ‘your heart will mend’ or some other disgustingly sweet thing like that.”  


Julian elbows him in the side. “Don’ be rude!” he shout-whispers, which would possibly have made Eugene smile if he weren’t so preoccupied.  


“Don’t you think it’ll do more bad than good though?” Renée asks after a few seconds of silence, except for Julian and George’s quiet bickering.  


Bill’s gaze on her is unreadable. “What d’ya mean?”  


“Won’t giving him flowers remind him of her? And risks making him feel even worse?”  


Bill seems to consider this for a second before nodding. “Ya got a point.”  


They stare at each other then, unsure of where to go from there. That is, until a smile starts curling on Julian’s lips.  


“What ‘f we don’ offer him a bouquet?”  


This whips up Eugene’s curiosity. His body shifts towards him unconsciously so as to listen more properly. If someone had told him, an hour ago, that he would be planning a post-breakup cheering up plan with three dudes he’d met not ten minutes before, he would have driven them to the nearest hospital himself.  


Yet here he is.  


George’s eyes are gleaming with something that can only be mischief. “Are you thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?”  


The two men look at each other excitedly.  


“A flower crown.”  


“A flower crown” Julian confirms solemnly.  


Renée and Eugene exchange an incredulous glance.  


“So… let me get this straight” the blond woman frowns. “Your friend just got dump and you want to pull some kind of prank on him?” She sounds disapproving, which is not really surprising. Eugene himself is feeling a bit wary at the proposal. He decides to give them the benefit of the doubt, though. They’re his friends after all. And they seem like they’re nice people overall. So it’s unlikely they want to hurt Edward even more.  


Julian shakes his head, laughing mischievously. “Nah, that’s not it. Babe actually _loves_ flower crowns. Says it makes him feel all pretty inside.”  


George’s eyes are sparkling. He clearly looks like he’s having a lot of fun right now. When Renée shouts him a half-distrustful half-questioning glance, they start shining even more.  


“See, it all started back in May of our second year of high school.” They all turn towards him, even Bill and Julian, although they must know the story – probably were here. Gene stares openly at him, listening intently. “One of our pals, David Webster, asked the principle if he could go wearing a dress. He was all serious about it, too. An’ that fucker answered that if he did so, he wouldn’t be assuring his protection on account of how it was ‘asking for troubles’. So Babe, the darlin’ that he is, decided he would wear a dress to prom because, an’ I quote ‘it ain’t fair boys can’t wear dresses if they wan’ ta, an’ ‘am not gonna let Webster gettin’ bullied an’ all cause he feels like wearing one’.”  


George’s rendering of Babe is particularly on point, Gene thinks as his eyes widen in admiration. The guy is an amazing story-teller, he’ll give him that.  


“Nobody thought he was serious at first, everyone thought he would chicken out, you know, Babe-style. And then on D-Day the crazy bastard shows up an hour late wearing a pearly-green gown he’s sewed himself, the fucker, a pair of high hell he borrowed from that drag queen who lives down his block and a motherfucking flower-crown he bought at Forever 21. And everyone was staring at him you know, but he just didn’t give a fuck. He went straight to us and high-fived Webster before pulling him in for a hug. Then he went on explaining how it looked good with his hair colour and shit and let me tell you, the whole school was _siked_. He and Webster stole the show that night. The best part is, Babe’s date went along with it, wearing a suit and all, and when some stupid senior tried to go at them both, calling them ‘pussies’ and ‘faggots’, she actually punched him in the face” he snickers, clasping his hand on his knee. “Then the three of them got kicked out cause Babe joined in on the kicking part as well.”  


There’s an eerie silence then, as Gene and Renée take the full story in. The three young men are looking at them expectantly. Julian’s barely contained glee doesn’t escape his attention.  


“So now he likes flower-crowns and he wears them for fun?” Renée asks suspiciously.  


Julian bites his lips. Eugene and Renée simultaneously narrow their eyes at him. In the end he gives in, bursting out laughing. He is soon followed by the other two.  


“No, he really doesn’t” he sniggers, his eyes crinkled and his mouth wide open.  


“It wouldn’t hold on and it clashed badly with his hair” George pips in. Their laughter grows louder in intensity.  


Renée is frowning again. Bill notices and he sobers up quickly.  


“But it’ll give ‘im a laugh” he explains. “It’ll remin’ ‘im of good times ya know? Trust me, I’m his best friend. He’ll love it.”  


Gene’s gaze meets Renée over the group of boys. He can see his own hesitation being reflected in those blue eyes.  


“He’ll love it, guys. I promise.”  


Eugene tugs absentmindedly at his shirt sleeve.  


“ _Qu’est-ce que tu en dis?_ ”  


Renée wrinkle her nose, obviously hesitant. “ _Je ne sais pas trop. Ils sont plein de bonnes intentions mais… Enfin, j’imagine qu’ils le connaissent mieux que nous._ ”  


The dark-haired man acquiesces. He can vaguely see the three men staring earnestly at them.  


“Okay” he sighs eventually. “Okay, I’ll do it.”  


It’d make sense, that a fond memory would make Babe feel better.  


Bill, George and Julian cheer, but he doesn’t give them time to rejoice.  


“But it better works, Guarnere” he almost growls, pointing a menacing finger in his direction.  


A brusque silence fills the room. Julian’s jaw drops in astonishment at Eugene’s sudden display. Bill barks out a laugh, clasping him roughly on the shoulder.  


“Beware the quiet ones, eh?”  


Renée nods, a sly grin playing on her lips.  


“You have no idea.”

**

  


It takes him almost an hour of minute work spent surrounded by incessant bickering and relentless flirting – well, at least on one particular brown-haired, loud -mouthed clownish guy’s part – but eventually Eugene manages to build a satisfying enough flower crown he allows Bill to take it back home with him. The next day, George and Julian come by to tell them that Babe loved the gift and to thank them personally. Renée’s out in the back when they come in and at first, when he doesn’t see her, George’s agreeable composure falters. He replaces his disappointed expression with a cheerful smile quickly enough Gene almost miss it, though, and then it takes all of his concentration to follow his and Julian’s babbling on Bill, Babe, some guy name Joe Toye and their shenanigans when they’ve had a bit too much to drink. One of them involves a milk cow and purple paint, surprisingly enough.  


At some point Renée comes in, though, and George’s fake cheerfulness changes into something else, something different, something more. He becomes quieter, calmer. When he asks her if he can talk to her privately, she accepts, surprisingly enough, obviously baffled by his sudden gravity.  


It’s almost half-an-hour later when they come back. Gene has been listening to Julian tell him stories about his childhood, about how the Julians, Guarneres and Heffrons pretty much raised the three boys as three brothers. That’s how he learns that Julian is actually the same age as the other two, that Bill Guarnere is a freacking paratrooper for the U.S army, away most of the time now, something Babe has troubles dealing with, and that he decided to accompany him on his trip back to the base – which is why he isn’t here in person.  


When the two boys bid their goodbyes Renée is barely paying attention, lost in her thoughts. Eugene, the benevolent angel that he is, gives her a twenty minutes break.  


“So” he says eventually, a smug smirk playing on his lips. “George Luz.”  


He doesn’t say anything more, relishing in the feeling of sweet, sweet revenge.  


Renée doesn’t look up, her face remaining one of carefully constructed disinterest.  


“Yes. What about him?” she says, but the slight redness of her cheeks betrays her.  


“What are you gonna do?”  


She seems to consider it. “I don’t know yet. Teach him how to talk to women without sounding like a complete moron, for starters.”  


Eugene scoffs, an unusual sound coming from him. “Poor boy doesn’t know what he got himself into, does he.”  


She grins back at him mercilessly. “No, he doesn’t.”

**

  


Later, they’re walking back home when she suddenly takes his hand in hers and squeezes. He throws her a puzzled glance.  


“ _Quand j’en serais certaine, je te le dirai_.”  


Her lips are pressed tight and her jaw is clenched. Her eyes are set, her tone definite. He smiles and squeezes her hand back.  


“ _Je sais_ ” he mutters softly before draping his arm around her shoulders and brushing his lips against her temple. “ _Je sais._ ”

**

  


Two weeks later, Gene is curled up on the couch in their living-room, shamelessly binging – for what must be at least the third time since the show aired – Sense8 on Netflix when Renée opens their apartment’s door, looking flushed and out of breath. Her hair is in disarray and her lips are swollen in a way that flatly indicates she’s been properly snogging someone. He raises an incriminating eyebrow at her and her blush deepens.  


“I might have gotten a bit… hum, carried away” she mumbles awkwardly, taking of her shoes.  


Eugene grins sarcastically. “You don’t say.” Then he adds, because he is nothing if not an incredible friend: “Thank god you don’t get involved with – and I quote – ‘loud-mouthed jokers who think women are nothing more than a pair of boobs’ or we’d be in trouble.”  


The look Renée throws in his direction would scare millions. It only makes his grin widen and his eyes gleam, taunting.  


“What? I’m just sayin’.”  


Renée rolls her eyes. “And people have the nerve to think you’re an angel.”  


His smile softens and he pats the cushion next to him. “Come on.”  


Gene puts the show on holds as Renée sits down next to him, loosening her hairpin. Her blond hair falls cascading down her shoulders. She had always liked it long, although she always wears it pinned some way or the other.  


She runs a hand through it, looking somewhat lost and confused.  


“He took me by surprised,” she murmurs quietly, staring at her joined hands on her laps.  


“When he kissed you? Funny, I could have sworn he’d wanted to do that since the first time he laid his eyes on you” Gene grins gleefully. “Been pretty obvious about it, too.”  


The redness of her cheeks intensifies even more.  


“No, not that” she mumbles bashfully, still staring at her hands. “In general. I didn’t… I didn’t expect _him_.” She frowns. She seems awfully frustrated all of a sudden. Her expression has him sobering up instantly. He can see how serious this is for her; it’s not time for joking anymore. “ _Ugh_ I don’t know how to say it. I just… I didn’t expect to like him that much, you know? I thought… at first I thought he was just another stupid white boy. An entertaining one maybe; but not worthy of my time. I thought he’d be another of those fuckboys. You know me – I never bother with them. I didn’t…”  


Gene takes her hand and intertwines their fingers. She lifts up her head and he can see how unsure she is in her gaze. He tries to convey all the soothing he can in his.  


“… you didn’t think you’d grow to care for him” he finishes for her.  


“Yes. _Yes_.” Her eyes brighten up in happiness as she goes on explaining. “He is so… so… _unexpected_ , Gene. There are no other words to describe it. You remember when they came back to thank us?” Eugene nods, but she doesn’t even seem to notice. “I agreed to talk to him mostly out of curiosity, even if I won’t lie, I probably was a bit interested already.” She blushes again and goes back to staring at her hands. “I wasn’t… I wasn’t expecting anything except for some more gawky flirting. And at first it was that but when I told him to cut it out he actually did. Not only that but he apologised and confessed that he didn’t mean to be bothersome, that he just didn’t know how to behave around me. Which, well, you know how I am. Told him he could just behave the way he did normally.”  


She pauses then, taking her breath. “He had the nerve to tell me that that was how he was on a daily. At this point I was thinking about leaving because what was the point of falling for some asshole, right? But then he looked at me and, I don’t know Gene, something had changed. There was no more mischief in his eyes. It was all gone. They were so serious it almost scared me. And when he spoke again, well, he didn’t sound at all like that easy going guy from the day before anymore. He told me he liked me and asked me to give him a chance. Just one and if I didn’t like him he’d leave me alone. So I thought, why the hell not, and I gave him my number.”  


Her blush has deepened again. She is clearly feeling self-conscious once more, so Eugene squeezes her hand reassuringly. “It’s okay Renée. You don’t have to tell me everything if you don’t want to.”  
She shakes her head. “No, but I want to. You deserve to know.” She smiles brightly to him. “So anyway, we’ve been texting back and forth since then. He’s actually really nice once you get past that layer of goofiness. Still a smooth talker, though. Studies management and communication, which isn’t that surprising. He knows how to speak to people. Anyway, yesterday I asked him what he was waiting for to ask me on a date. The idiot told me he wasn’t sure I’d say yes. So I texted him back a time and a place and here we are.”  


Eugene smiles gently. He knew they had a date, off course. Renée would have never kept that from him. But it’s nice to learn the rest. “How did it go?”  


Her eyes sparkle even more brightly. “He makes me laugh, Gene. I mean, it was not unforeseeable but he’s funny, he really is. And he’s so much smarter than he lets on. He’s really sensitive, for a twenty-one years old guy. He’s so young, you know? It’s true that we’re only two years older than that lot but even though, I wouldn’t have expected such a level of maturity from him. He’s so much more than just fun and games. He _listens_ when I talk to him and more importantly, he _learns_. Like, that ‘sweetheart’ thing? I explained to him why it bothered me and he hasn’t done it again. Not only that, but I could see he understood. He wasn’t just thinking ‘oh, let’s just humour her now so I can get into her pants later’, or, ‘those goddamn feminazis, always overreacting’. He genuinely cared.”  


The dark-haired man nods approvingly. He can see now why Renée called him ‘unexpected’. Guys like that are rare – especially among twenty-something straight dudes. She was understandably wary of him at first. It turned out to be a nice surprise.  


“You really like him.”  


She grins shyly. “Yeah I… I think I do.”  


“When are you going to see him again?”  


She bites her bottom lip. “He invited me to a party next week. Said it’d be awesome if you came too.”  


Eugene raises a dubious eyebrow. “A party, really? Are we back at being high school students, then?”  


She pushes him lightly on the arm. “Don’t be an asshole, Gene. It’s in the flat he shares with his friends Joe Toye and Franck Perconte and it’ll be only them and a couple of their friends from uni.”  


“So like a frat party.”  


She rolls her eyes. “Are you coming or what?”  


“Are you coming or not?”  


Eugene pretends to think about it. “What do I get in return?”  


“The satisfaction of being nice to your best friend? Also, contact with actual human beings. Cause talking to me in our flat _does not_ count as socialising, Gene” she says threateningly.  


The young man smirks. “Okay” he says eventually. “I’ve never been to a college party before. I guess there’s a first time for everything, isn’t it?”  


The strength of Renée’s hug almost crushes him.

**

  


The flat is in a neighbourhood in South Philly. It’s not the nicest Gene’s ever been in, but it’s not so bad. The building is one of those old ones you only find on the East coast now, one of those that seem to be standing only out of cheer will. Eugene wonders stupidly if it’s where Edward grew up: not in a small house in the middle of a swamp or in an even smaller one in the suburbs of Philly but in a crowded flat shared with his whole family and, more often than not, Julian’s and Bill’s.  


George is all over Renée as soon as they cross the threshold. She’s barely greeted him that he’s muttering something into her ear, eyes sparkling. She blushes slightly and she looks embarrassed when she turns towards Eugene. He grins.  


“But look who’s here! It’s Gene, our favourite florist!” George shouts happily. Eugene goes to shake his hand but the other man takes him into a strong, warm embrace. He freezes, uncertain of how to respond, which makes George laugh.  


“Eugene, you never cease to amaze me.”  


Renée wrinkles her nose. “You barely know him.”  


“Even more so” George winks before entwining their fingers together. His gaze follows the movement as the three of them start chatting about their week. George is complaining about the mass of homework he has when Gene realises he’s talking more to Renée than anything else and that he himself has been zoning out for a while.  


“I’m gonna see if I can steal some food, give you some time to enjoy each other’s presence” he interrupts quietly. It’s easy to see they want to be left alone. Not in a ‘we don’t want you here’ but in a ‘we just started dating or whatever and the rest of the world doesn’t matter to us anymore’ kind of way. He doesn’t mind. It’s cute, and as long as his best friend is happy, nothing matters.  
Renée frowns. “Are you sure?”  


“Yeah.”  


She eyes him warily, and he meets her with his usual stoic expression. She yields eventually, but not before she’s hugged him earnestly and whispered a ‘have fun, okay Gene?’ in his ear.  


He assures her he will and she disappears, her hand still in George’s. He watches her go, a small smile on his lips. He’s glad George turned out to be a good person. It’s easy to see they already share a deep bond. Now he can only hope it’ll work out, despite them seeming like polar opposite. Although from what Renée told him, it’s clear that George is far from being as carefree and immature as he leads to believe.  


When he can’t see them anymore he starts wandering aimlessly. He’s slaloming between groups of people he doesn’t know when suddenly he hears someone calling his name. He raises his head, only to catch a sun-like smile amidst the crowd. It’s coming closer by the second. Soon a group of four men is standing in front of him, including one with fiery ginger hair he’d recognized anywhere – he doesn’t think about the implications that thought entail.  


It takes him a few seconds to stop staring at Edward but eventually he looks up at the other guys and smile timidly at the two brown-haired ones he doesn’t know.  


“Gene, my man! Lemme tell ya ya look particularly handsome tonight. What d’ya do with ya hair?” Julian slurs out, clearly on his way to drunkenness.  


“You’re so fucking gay, Julian, it’s pretty disgusting” one of the other two guys lets out in a snarl.  


The younger man seems pretty unfazed by his remark. “That’s rich comin’ from the guy who can’t resist the urge of jumpin’ Web ‘verytime he comes down from Boston even though he knows how _thin_ the walls in our dorms are.”  


The fourth guy – Web, Eugene presumes – blushes furiously and opens his mouth to retort, but doesn’t get the time to do so.  


The snarling dude is grinning madly, his eyes sparkling devilishly, when he answers in that sardonic, slow tone that seems to be his signature mark.  


“Oh please Julian. Don’t pretend like two hot guys doing it doesn’t turn you on.”  


Julian winks and makes kissy noises in his direction.  


The other guy’s face turns ashen and he hides it in his hands. “Oh my God Joe, just shut the hell up.”  


The three other boys all burst out laughing, clearly amused at his embarrassment. Gene blinks owlishly, slightly confused.  


The dark-haired one, the one who looks like the Devil impersonated, is the first to recover. He grins brightly, holding out his hand to him.  


“The name’s Joe Liebgott. Gene Roe, right?” Eugene nods silently in confirmation, shaking his hand. “I’ve heard an awful lot about you. Babe just can’t seem to shut up about you and your shop. It’s all he talks about now: flowers this and flowers that, d’ya know that roses don’t necessarily mean love, d’ya know that Gene knows every flower’s meaning, d’ya know that he made me a real flower crown…” he continues in a poor imitation of his friend. Babe has stopped laughing by then. He punches him lightly on the shoulder.  


“Shut the fuck up, Lieb” he says in a tone that aims at nonchalance, but Eugene swears he can see a faint blush on his cheeks. It makes his insides all squirmy and warm. “It’s nice to see ya again, Gene. ‘s been a while.” He bites his lips, as though he’s not sure whether to talk next or not. “I didn’t get to thank ya for… ya know. So yeah. Thank ya.”  


Eugene nods. At this point he’s not sure he can articulate a whole sentence correctly. Stupid crush. Stupid, stupid crush.  


“Don’t listen to a word Joe says” the fourth guy supplies, but the fondness in his tone betrays him. “He’s a complete idiot. I’m David Webster. You can call me David or Web. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Mr Roe.”  


He sounds overly polite and overly educated, Gene can’t help but think. Not that the other three guys don’t appear smart, he can tell they are, but David sounds like one of those white dudes who go to private schools and then go on to become lawyers or politicians after graduating from Harvard or Yale or some other top-notch university like that. He looks a bit out-of-place in this college frat-like party. But at the same time you can tell how obviously well he fits in with the guys he and Renée have come to secretly nickname the ‘Philly gang’. It shouldn’t work, but weirdly enough, it does.  


“Jesus Web, don’ talk to him like he’s the fuckin’ President or some shit. Gene’s barely older than we are. Ya’re gonna scare him away with ya Ivy League shit” Babe grumbles good-naturedly, rolling his eyes. Eugene casts him a questioning glance.  


Julian winks to him. “See, Web here’s a scholar. Fucker abandoned us right after high school to go all the way up to Boston cause he got accepted into _Harvard_ ” he explains, stressing exaggeratedly the last part. “He’s got some massive brain on him, ya better watch out what ya say.”  


Webster shakes his head. “I’m not… I don’t… I’m not a contemptuous prick!” he complains. They’ve obviously had this conversation before.  


Edward put one arm around his shoulders and pokes him on the left cheek, a smirk on his lips. “Never said ya were Web. Just a good ol’ Harvard-breed white boy.”  


“Yeah, well, may I remind you that your ginger Irish ass is whiter than me, so. Bite me.”  


“’am gonna leave that to our dear Lieb here if ya don’t mind.”  


Webster’s blush darkens – if that’s even possible – and they all laugh again. Julian starts hoping up and down.  


“Anyway fellas, was nice talkin’ to ya an’ all but that’s not gonna get me any pretty gal. An’ that’s a major issue right now. Ya don’t happen to have another cute friend with really low standards, do ya Gene?”  


Eugene startles, caught off guard. “What? Who are you talking about?”  


Joe snorts. “Your friend Renée obviously. Only God knows how George managed to get his grip on her.” He stops thoughtfully. “Do you think he bribed her?”  


Eugene frowns. “Renée wouldn’t date someone unless she was really interested in them.”  


Edward grins, leaving Webster’s side to pat his shoulder. “He’s kindin’ Gene, don’t ya worry. Don’t take a genius to guess Renée’s a real angel. An’ real smart as well, George told me all ‘bout her studyin’ economics before comin’ to help ya in ya shop, won’t shut up about it. Even that West Coast moron figured it out.”  


Eugene feels himself relax at Edward’s touch. He doesn’t think about it.  


“This ‘West Coast moron’, as you say, is going to beat your scrawny Philly ass up” Liebgott retorts, but he’s grinning again.  


Webster grabs him by the arm. “No he will _not_ ” he states fiercely. “Come on, let’s find something to eat. I’m starving. See you guys later!”  


The both of them bid their goodbyes before disappearing into what must be the kitchen.  


Eugene hears Julian sigh next to him. He follows his gaze to a corner where Renée and George are chatting quietly, completely unaware of the world around them. He pulls a silly face and she giggles, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. It immediately falls back again and George reaches out hesitantly. When she doesn’t protest, he pushes it aside delicately. His fingers brush against her cheek, which makes her blush furiously.  


Gene smiles fondly. Renée has always been serious in her dating. During her time in Uni, before she’d graduated last year, she’d only dated one guy. They’d stayed together for four years but their relationship hadn’t been able to handle the distance after he’d moved to London for work. George is the first person who’s really caught her eyes in over a year. Eugene thinks it must mean something.  


“Look at that” he hears Edward say next to him. He can hear that exact same fondness in his tone. “I think ‘s the first time I see him that quiet in ten years.”  


Julian nods pensively. “Miracles do happen.”  


“I betcha they do.” 

**

  


“Ya know, they got together b’cause of me” Edward tells him three hours later, an umpteenth bottle of beer in his hand. His cheeks are flushed and his speech is slurred. He’s leaning close to Eugene, closer than needed on the otherwise empty couch they share. They’ve stuck with each other for the past two hours, chatting on and off with some of Babe’s friends, talking about everything and nothing when left alone. Eugene hasn’t even seen the time pass, so engrossed was he in their conversation. Between one story about his attempt at playing the cello and another about his first meeting with Bill’s platoon commander – the infamous Speirs, Gene learns – Edward has managed to convince him to get a drink and his head is a bit dizzy now.  


“W… what?” he stutters, his speech unsure. He’s pretty certain Heffron refilled his cup at least twice but he’s too focused on their conversation – on his whole _presence_ , really – to care. It’s distracting. Edward is distracting.  


“Web and Joe. They met ‘cause of me. Dude was in my biology class an’ we hit it off right away so I invited him over once, when Web was around. Hate at first sight, man. Crazy shit how long it took them to get together. Were drivin’ everyone mad. It’s that kind of hate ya know it’s really just love, yeah? Like there was so much sexual tension between them ya could feel them eye-fucking each other ‘verytime they were in the same vicinity. Still can” he winces. “Anyway, I’m the one who got the wheel turnin’, ya know. Locked them into Julian’s room ‘bout two years ago. Lemme tell ya he was not happy ‘bout that” he laughs.  


Eugene doesn’t respond and just stares quietly the whole time. He’s having trouble now. The way the small freckles on Edward’s nose look in the dim light are far too distracting for him to pay attention to anything else if he’s being honest.  


The other boy sighs before taking a sip of his beer. “I wish I had that kind of relationship with someone” he mutters longingly, so low the older man barely hears it.  


Eugene frowns slightly, not liking the sadness behind his words. “One where you bicker all the time? I got a feelin’ that’s pretty much what you got with Julian and Bill already. You guys are worse than an old married couple” he banters in a lame attempt at cheering the other boy up. But from the look on his face, he can see he won’t be able to pull him from his drunk-induced self-dejection that easily.  


The redhead sighs miserable. “No. One where ya connect so deeply with the other person it feels like it was meant to be. Never got that with anyone.”  


“What about Doris?” Eugene blurts out. He could punch himself in the face. He wants to punch himself in the face. He should definitely punch himself in the face.  


Edward stares ahead pensively. “Was fun but… the feeling wasn’t there, ya know? I think that’s why she broke up with me in the end. I don’t blame her. It wasn’t fair to her, what I did.”  


His gaze meets Gene’s then, and the atmosphere around them shifts abruptly. Eugene feels his stomach flip. He has to swallow against the sudden bump in his throat. He wants to ask what he means exactly by this, but he doesn’t.  


“Babe, I…” he begins, before stopping. Edward’s eyes are wide, his pupils dilated.  


“I’ve never… I’ve never been in love” he mutters slowly, as though he’s weighing each of his words.  


“You haven’t?”  


“Nah.”  


He’s shifted closer now, without Eugene’s noticing. He can feel his body-heat from where their sides are almost pressed together. He feels even dizzier than earlier and he’s pretty sure it’s not because of the alcohol.  


“Gene?” he whispers. His gaze is pinned on his lips and it makes him squirm awkwardly.  


Eugene swallows again, causing his Adam-apple to bop up and down. Babe’s eyes follow the movement. They have a hungry gleam to them that the dark-haired man doesn’t want to decipher.  


“Y… Yeah?” he whispers back, breathless.  


“Ya called me Babe.”  


“I… I did?”  


“Yeah.”  


And then he kisses him.  


It’s sloppy and hungry, as though Babe is a drowning man hanging on for dear life and Eugene’s lips are his lifeboat. It’s desperate in a way that makes him thinks Edward might have wanted this for longer than the older man would have thought. It tastes like cheap beer and peanuts but it’s _real_ and it’s _there_ and it sets Gene’s entire skin on fire.  


His eyes flutter close as he kisses back passionately, all thoughts of pulling away leaving his mind as they enter it. There’s an alarming bell ringing in the back of his brain but its warning goes unnoticed. There’s nothing but Edward now, and Edward’s sent, and his heat, and his lips, and his body so close to him, the sum of which renders all thought of doing anything but kissing him uncoherent and pointless.  


The bottle of beer stands forgotten next to them. The sounds of the party grow duller the longer they kiss, as though a veil is being laid down between them and the rest of the world. Eugene wonders for a brief moment if he hasn’t entered another dimension. One where he is kissing Babe – or Babe is kissing him – and the rest isn’t important.  


Edward grips his shirt in between his fists, yanking him closer. Before Gene can understand what’s going on he’s halfway lying on top of the other man, their torsos closely pressed together. They’re running out of breath, halfway between kissing and breathing into each other’s mouth.  


“Open ya eyes, Gene” Edward mutters right next to his ear, sending shivers down his spine.  


He does.  


The warmth in those brown eyes is intoxicating to the point where Eugene finds himself stuck in place, unable to move. He could spend hours like this, just staring at the way they spark like the burning reflexion of his own love and desire.  


“God, Gene, ya’re the prettiest person I’ve ever seen” he faintly hears the redhead say as he starts trailing kisses down his neck.  


_”She’s so pretty” Babe is saying in a wide room crammed with flowers. It’s months ago, and Eugene is far from even imagining he will ever see the other man again. “an’ I wanna ask her out.”_.  


He bolts upright, looking much like a deer in headlights.  


“Gene? What’s going on?”  


He doesn’t respond. Instead, he turns away and disappears into the crowd. He starts running when he finds the exit door. He doesn’t stop until he’s home almost an hour later. 

**

  


“Gene?” Renée calls out, raping softly at his bedroom door. He doesn’t answer, curling onto himself even more under his covers instead.  


For a while, there isn’t any noise coming from the other side of the door. Renée sighs when she is sure he definitely won’t answer. “He looked dejected you know. Babe. After you left. Whatever happened, it looked like it mattered to him. A lot.” She lets the silence stretch out again, hopeful, before sighing once more. “You should give him the benefit of the doubt, Gene.”  


She’s met with silence once again. He can hear her shuffle behind the door.  


“I’m here if you need to talk, okay?” she says eventually. His ears follow the sound of her footsteps getting further away from the door.  


Eugene tries to shut out all thoughts and to go to sleep.  


Every time he closes his eyes, all he can see is Babe’s face right before he leaned forward and kissed him.  


He can still feel is the sensation of a pair of lips pressing against his.  


He can still taste the faint memory of cheap alcohol and peanuts in his mouth.  


He stays awake the whole night, staring blankly at the ceiling. 

**

  


Gene doesn’t go to work for an entire week.  


It’s stupid and it’s childish and Renée tells him so, her tone as much angry as it is heart-broken, but he can’t bring himself to go.  


Babe knows where he works and Eugene can’t bring himself to face Babe.  


Not that he thinks the other man will come searching for him. He’s probably forgotten all about what happened, considering how much alcohol he’d drunk.  


Eugene can’t help but hope he will.  


Eugene can’t help but hope he won’t.  


So he does what he does best and runs away from it.  


It’s not the first time he’s fled from an awkward situation. He’s really good at disappearing from people’s life – at becoming just another vague memory.  


He goes to the shop off course. He can’t – he won’t – stay away from it, from the flowers, from the plenitude and serenity it brings him. He won’t give up on this just because of his own stupidity. But he enters it long after it’s closed, like a thief in his own home. He works on orders until midnight is long past and leaves them ready in the morning for Renée to take care of.  


She doesn’t say anything after her first outburst. She waits for him to come around. But he doesn’t, so eventually, on Friday, right before her date with George, she informs him she’s sleeping at his place tonight.  


Eugene barely moves from where he’s huddled on the couch, an empty pot of Ben&Jerry’s next to him. He’s stopped caring about how cliché he is about five days ago. “Okay” he shrugs. He’s being an asshole. She doesn’t deserve this; he knows it. So he tries again. “Have fun.”  


It sounds unconvincing.  


Renée shakes her head. “Go take a shower, Eugene.”  


He doesn’t answer, and she leaves with one last sigh. A couple of hours go by. Gene has decided to watch Skins again because he is feeling angsty as hell and he’s resolved to dwell in it as much as possible. He smells his shirt at some point though, winces, and drags himself into the shower. He’s barely put clean pyjamas on when the doorbell rings.  


“Renée, the door!” he shouts from the bathroom, before he remembers she left on her date hours ago.  


His hair is wet and it’s trickling down his neck. The doorbell rings again. Eugene swears under his breath. “Comin’!” he shouts right before opening. He freezes when he sees who’s standing in the hallway, mouth agape.  


“E… Edward?” The astonishment in his voice makes it barely audible.  


His heart starts racing madly as panic fills his brain. He doesn’t get it. His brain must be refusing to work because he can’t understand what’s going on _at all_. He tries to find a reasonable explanation but he comes out empty. His brain cannot answer even the simplest questions. What’s Edward doing there? How does he know where he lives? Who told him? But more importantly, why is he here? Why would he even come here?  


“What are you…?”  


“Shut the fuck up, Eugene” Edward snarls, forcing himself into his apartment.  


His tone of voice is enough to bring the older boy out of his torpor, and he feels his temper flare up.  


“The fuck, Heffron?” he asks coldly, closing the door behind him.  


Edward turns towards him, his eyes glinting with barely contained wrath.  


“Oh no, ya don’t get to ask that Gene. Ya don’t get to ask anythin’, not after what ya pulled on me last week.” His tone is full of anger but Eugene can hear something behind it – hurt, disappointment.  


It makes him even angrier for some reason. It’s irrational, it’s nonsensical. It doesn’t mean he is going to stop.  


“What _I_ pulled? Are you fucking kidding me? You’re the one who _kissed_ me!”  


“Ya’re the one who _ran away_! Ya fuckin’ ran away Gene! An’ then you did everything ya could to never see me again! D’ya have any idea how much that fuckin’ _hurts_?”  


Eugene barely registers the last words. He does not think about the possibility of Babe truly wanting to kiss him that night (but he does, and he feels hope nibbling at his anger). He does not think about the possibility of Babe trying to reach him (but he does, and he feels joy jolting in the deepest parts of him). He ignores it because no, he is not going to be anything but mad. He knows what’s happening now. He’s been down this road before. It can only end with his heart getting broken again.  


“Off course I ran away! We were drunk!”  


“And what if we were? It’s not a fuckin’ reason to avoid me like the plague for an _entire fuckin’ week_!”  


“I wasn’t…”  


“Don’t fuck with me Gene! Don’t ya fuckin’ lie to my face!”  


Eugene shuts his mouth. As much as he wants to defend himself, it’s not worth hurting Babe even more. He’s never been a liar anyway.  


They stare at each other in silence then, standing still like two gladiators in an arena, ready to tear each other apart.  


“You liked _Doris_!” he shouts angrily, his fists clenching at his side. It’s too much, he thinks. He is giving away too much.  


“So what? So _what_?” Edward yells back, his face distorted by rage.  


“So I thought you were fuckin’ straight!” His voice grows louder with every word. A part of him knows he has no rational reason to be angry at Edward. He didn’t even try to understand. He didn’t leave him a chance to explain himself. But he wants to be angry. Otherwise he might give in – and he can’t have that happening again.  


Edward’s face twists in anger. Before Eugene can do anything, he grips him by the collar of his shirt, pinning him against the wall. The impact makes all of the oxygen leave his lungs. “Ya _assumed_? Ya fuckin’ _assumed_? What about askin’ me, ya fuckin’ idiot?”  


“I didn’t… I don’t want to…” _fall for a straight guy who’s going through some kind of phase. Get hurt again. Hook up for months with a guy only to have him mock him openly when he comes out sophomore year. Be an experiment. Be the convenient queer kid you can use and throw away. Be a shameful fuck in some dark alley behind a gay bar miles away from your home._  


He doesn’t say any of that, off course.  


“You like girls! There was no point!” he bellows instead, his jaw clenching so hard it’s starting to hurt.  


“For Christ’s sake Eugene, I was never _using_ ya! When will ya drill it into ya thick skull? I’m _not_ straight!”  


Gene stares at him, bewildered. He can picture all of his carefully built walls break down as it dawns on him – truly does this time. He’s been doing everything he could not to think about this possibility since day one. He’s locked it far away into his brain as a self-defence mechanism. Because if Heffron was straight then there was no hope, right? He could never have him. There would be no point in wanting him or falling for him. Therefore there’d be no risk of getting hurt again. Or so he’s been telling himself for months now.  


He wonders for a moment if he already knew that; that Babe isn’t straight. Maybe he did.  


He can feel his heart hammering in his chest.  


“You… you’re not?”  


“Fuckin’ hell Gene! No!”  


Eugene can feel his anger flowing away. His frown doesn’t leave his face, though.  


“But what about Doris? You liked her! You even told me so!”  


Edward grits his teeth. “So maybe I did. But then we got together and it didn’t work out. I wasn’t into it, from the fuckin’ beginning. Probably because I fuckin’ met _ya_ and then I kept thinkin’ about _ya_ at the most random times. I fuckin’ ruined it with her. I screwed it up real bad and I was an asshole about it cause I wouldn’t admit there was someone else okay? Girl or boy doesn’t matter I wanted to do it right by her – was not fair havin’ feelings for someone else so I pretended I didn’t. She had to fuckin’ _tell_ me for me to notice and I still feel shitty about it but the fact is, ya was more than a crush from the beginnin’ an’ me bein’ drunk has nothing to do with it.”  


He’s breathless when he stops talking, as though he’s just run a marathon. There’s a glint in his eyes that tells him the other man just poured out his feelings to him.  


“You… you like me?” Edward nods. “So… you’re gay?”  


All the fight leaves Edward’s face at once. When their eyes meet again, his are filled with tiredness.  


“Why do I have to be anythin’? Why do I have to choose? One or the other, that it? Can’t handle anythin’ else, Roe?”  


Eugene’s face goes blank. Edward sighs wearily and begins to pull away from him.  


“I ain’t gonna deal with this shit. Either ya take me for what I am or I’m leavin’. If me likin’ more than one gender don’t sit well with ya then ya’re not the guy I thought I could see.”  


He’s halfway to the door, so Eugene grabs his wrist before he is too far away. The redhead turns around and stares at him. His face is a mix of hope and resignation, as though he’s not sure what Gene is going to do next. It breaks his heart, that Edward could be afraid of him or of his reaction to his coming out. It makes him wonder if he’s ever been turned down by guys for not being gay before. It makes him wonder if he’s ever been discriminated against because of it. It makes him wonder if Edward is not as scared of being hurt as he is.  


Eugene’s eyes are pleading when he speaks up next.  


“I don’t care about that Babe. I don’t give a fuck that you’re not gay.”  


He says it with all the honesty he can, trying to convey how much he means it. He’s not good with words, has never been. He’s always been the quiet type, the one who’d rather listen than talk. But he’s ready to try if it means he can get his feelings through to Edward.  


The redhead doesn’t say anything at first. He bites his lips as though he’s still unsure. So Eugene does the only thing he can think of to convince him. He leans forward and kisses him, his hand leaving Edward’s wrist to come and cup his jaw, the other one resting on his hip.  


He kisses him gently; tries to stress the difference with their drunk-haze induced one. It’s short and closed-mouthed; but it’s sweet and it’s enough, so Eugene pulls away. He rests his forehead against Babe’s and rubs his thumb smoothly over the curves of his jaw.  


“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed stuff about you.”  


Edward closes his eyes, relaxing against Gene’s palm. He grabs the florist by the waist, drawing him closer.  


“I like ya, Gene. I really do. I have for a long time.”  


“I like you too, Edward. Since the first time you came into my shop” he admits bashfully.  


His eyes shout open. “Quit calling me Edward, ya freacking weirdo.”  


“Nope” Gene grins, before pulling him in for another kiss, cupping his jaw in both of his hands this time.  


This one is not a gentle kiss. Eugene is done being gentle. All he can think about now is that first kiss and how Babe’s tongue felt against his, and from the small whimper the other man lets out, he guesses he’s thinking of it too. So, slowly but surely, he walks Edward backward until the redhead is pressing against the wall and coaxes his mouth open. He lets him in eagerly and his hands slide from where they were still resting on Gene’s sides to grip at the back of his shirt.  


Eugene’s body seems to be moving on its own accord. His hands leave Edward’s jaw so they can rest against the wall on each side of his head. His body tilts forward until he can feel Edward’s heat against each and every part of it. He can hear his heart beating in his chest from where it’s pressed against his and it makes him want to make it go even faster.  


He licks Edward’s upper lip with his tongue before trailing kisses down his jaw until he reaches a point on his throat where he can feel Edward’s heartbeat. He starts sucking there, taking his time, and the redhead lets out a shaky breath.  


“Jesus, Gene” he pants, turning his head to give him better access.  


“Didn’t your mama ever teach you not to blaspheme?” he mutters against his throat, smirking.  


“Fuck ya, Gene” he mumbles, but there’s no heat in it. Eugene’s mouth is working on that spot again anyway and he lets out a new whimper, clearly unable to form any coherent thought. It makes him grin proudly. He bites at the now reddened skin.  


“Oh god” Edward gasps. “Where the hell did ya learn to do that with ya mouth?”  


Eugene shouts him a sly look. “You learn a thing or two in the Bayou.”  


Edward raises a dubious eyebrow. “Didn’t ya leave when ya were like, ten or some shit?”  


“Seven.”  


The younger man rolls his eyes before pulling him in for another kiss. This time, it’s Gene’s turn to get overwhelmed by the sensation of Edward’s lips against his. His breath is growing ragged by the second and his knees feel as though they could buckle at any moment.  


One of Edward’s hands leaves the back of his shirt and he slips it under it. Eugene shivers at the contact of Babe’s soft skin on his and he instinctively pulls closer to him.  


The other man tugs at the hem of his shirt and has him raising his arms so that he can roll it up and over his head. As soon as that’s done, the redhead throws it somewhere in the room and starts trailing light kisses down his throat and chest.  


It feels amazing. Gene doesn’t ever want him to stop. His heart is hammering so hard in his chest he’s scared it’s going to punch a hole through it.  


Edward is sucking on his hipbone now, hard enough he knows it’s going to leave a mark, and he can’t help but blush furiously when he thinks about it.  


Not that Eugene is a virgin or a prude or anything. He apparently has a thing for overly sexually active guys with an especially dirty mind. Merriel wasn’t even the worst of the lot, and god could he be downright obscene sometimes.  


But it’s Edward, and it’s too much. Him, it’s too much. He’s never felt so strongly, so _fully_ before. It’s overwhelming; all that he’s feeling at once. And he doesn’t want to screw this up. For the first time in his life he has the feeling this might work out. Granted, he almost fucked it up right from the beginning. But now that he’s accepted the fact that Edward is not straight and wants to be with him, it’s different. So he wants to take his time. There’s no point in rushing into things; that much he knows.  


“Edward” he tries, barely audible.  


He’s gone back up by now. He’s biting lightly at the skin of his throat and Gene can’t help the low moan that escapes him as he starts sucking there again.  


“Wait, wait” he says breathlessly as Edward begins to undo his belt, “we haven’t even had our first date yet.”  


Edward laughs against his throat. “Who fuckin’ cares about first dates, Gene” he mutters, but his hands leave his belt to rest on his sides.  


The dark-haired man pulls away a little. “Damn, Heffron” he gasps, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “could you be a _slut_?” he asks, putting his hand on his chest in mock-terror.  


He means it as a joke, but when Edward looks up at him, he grins impishly before licking his lips. It sends a shiver down Gene’s spine and suddenly he’s not so sure he cares about first dates that much anymore. “Hell yeah I am” the younger man answers before going back to nibbling at his neck. He shivers again, closing his eyes. “’specially if it means I get to see the ever-so-stoic Eugene Roe looking like a hot mess.”  


He bites a bit harder at his neck then and Eugene lets out a whimper.  


“You’re an asshole” he pants, punching him lightly on the shoulder.  


“I know” Edward answers against his neck, smiling.  


“I hate you.”  


“Nah ya don’t." 

**

  


In the end, they don’t do anything besides taking their shirts off. Reality catches up to them once they get to Eugene’s bed and they go more slowly. Eugene does want them to take their time with learning to know each other more intimately and ultimately Babe thinks so as well. They do make out lazily for a while, though, and Eugene asks him if he wants to stay for the night – Edward’s face lights up at that, making him feel all fuzzy inside – but they both agree it’s best they take their time. It doesn’t stop them from talking, snuggling and kissing well into the night, and it must be almost four in the morning when they end up falling asleep in a tangle of limbs.  


It’s around eight when Eugene wakes up. Edward is still asleep by his side, snoring softly, and he gives himself a moment to take it all in.  


They’ve talked it through during the night and now they understand each other a bit better. Edward’s told him all about questioning his sexuality, and how he knew from the beginning there wasn’t a correct term to define how he felt. Eugene’s opened up about his past experiences – not only Merriel, but other boys as well – in a way he never felt comfortable to before. He feels lighter somehow.  


There’s something there, he thinks, something that runs deep inside the both of them and that he doesn’t fully understand yet.  


He could call it love. But he doesn’t, because it’s not been long enough, he rationalizes. And because the thought of scaring him away terrifies him.  


“Stop thinkin’ so much Gene, I can hear ya from here” a voice speaks up from his side.  


Eugene blinks twice, pulling himself out of his thoughts.  


Edward has woken up without his noticing. He’s staring intently at him, a knowing look in his eyes. His head is half-sunk into the pillow and his hair is sticking out in every direction. He looks so endearing like this Gene thinks his heart might burst out of his chest. Thankfully it doesn’t.  


He shifts his body slightly so they can be eyes to eyes. Edward smiles tenderly to him, and he thinks he never wants to wake up to anything other than that ever again.  


“I don’t want to screw this up” he mutters quietly, tracing patters only he can see down Edward’s arm.  


The redhead’s smile grows even softer. He takes his hand between his and kisses each of his knuckles slowly, before locking their gaze together again. He looks more serious than Eugene has ever seen him. “Ya won’t, Gene” he whispers, soothingly but with a touch of firmness, as though to make it dead-clear that this is not debatable.  


His brow is furrowed as well, as though he’s trying real hard to put on the most serious face he can. It’s incredibly endearing. His mouth stretches into an uncontrollable grin because of how adorable Edward looks right now.  


He knows he must look like an idiot, staring at him in wonder while remaining silent like that, but he doesn’t really care.  


“Please don’t do that” the other man blurts out then.  


Eugene frowns in confusion.  


To his renewed surprise, Babe blushes before hiding his face in one of his pillows.  


“Please don’t look at me like the sun is pourin’ out of my fuckin’ ass, okay. Makes me uncomfortable.”  


Eugene blinks in astonishment for a second before he gets over the shock of hearing what he just heard and starts giggling madly. When he looks as though he isn’t going to stop anytime soon, Babe’s face jerks out of the pillow and he glares at him.  


“Hey! Cut it out ‘lready!”  


“Oh… my… God” Eugene hiccups, “you are such a goddamn _nerd_ , Heffron.”  


He grins madly at him. Tears are filling his eyes because of how hard he is laughing and he starts whipping them. He doesn’t stop sniggering, though.  


“Jesus Christ Gene, will ya stop it!” he hears the redhead growl, but there’s no real heat in his tone, so he doesn’t.  


He lets out a startled yelp when a wet pair of lips suddenly collides with his and a tongue forcefully parts his mouth open. Edward pushes fiercely against him, successfully shutting him up, and soon he finds himself panting slightly, out of breath. They’re both breathing heavily when they pull apart and Babe’s face is a brand-new kind of red.  


“Told ya to cut it out” he mutters against his lips, and Eugene doesn’t say anything, bites his lower lip instead.  


A low groan escapes the redhead’s lips. “Jesus, Gene” he gasps, hiding his face in the crook of the older man’s neck, “ya’re drivin’ me insane.”  


Eugene smiles teasingly. “Oh, well” he almost purrs, “I guess I’ll just stop, in that case.”  


He starts pulling back then, very slowly, the teasing glint never leaving his eyes. At first Babe stares at him dumbly, as though he doesn’t quite understand what’s going on exactly. But then his gaze darkens imperceptibly and he seizes him by the forearms.  


“Don’t ya dare” he warns, pulling him closer and kissing him again.  


Eugene laughs against his mouth and kisses him back eagerly. After a few minutes, he sighs contently before pulling away. A yelp of protest escapes the ginger’s mouth as he stands up in a sitting position. He turns his head towards him, smiling brightly. Edward is pouting slightly, which makes him laugh again.  


“Stop sulking, dummy. I’ll make you breakfast.”  


Edward’s face lights up at that, and the sight fills him with warmth. The younger man is up and out of bed in less than ten seconds, jumping up and down enthusiastically.  


“Come on, old man! How can you still be in bed? Time to eat!” he shouts merrily. He quiets down, thoughtful. “Please tell me ya don’t cook crazy spicy like all those Cajun people cause my poor Irish-American ass can’t handle that shit” he adds after a few seconds.  


Eugene shakes his head in disbelief. A five years old. He’s dating an actual five years old.  


When he gets up, though, he can’t stop smiling fondly.  


Renée comes home around noon to find them cuddling on the couch, watching the Lion King. George is with her and when he sees them, he cheers. The two friends high five like the morons they are and Renée rolls her eyes but she’s beaming, her smile so bright it’s almost blinding, and Gene thinks this is it, this is where he ought to be. 

**

  


The doorbell of the shop rings and Eugene looks up absentmindedly from where he is cutting roses’ stems. He is met with sparkling brown eyes, fiery red hair and a dazzling smile. A grin stretches his lips and he nods, greeting the customer.  


“May I help you?” he asks, because he is nothing if not professional.  


The younger man’s smile grows even brighter as he makes his way to the front of the shop.  


“As a matter of fact, yes” he answers softly, a playful smile on his lips. “I need to buy flowers.”  


Eugene leans over the counter, which is really much unlike him and really much _not_ professional.  


“Do you now” he mutters cheekily.  


The other man leans imperceptibly towards him. “Yes. See, there’s this guy I like…”  


He pauses then and Eugene hums quietly.  


“And I think, I’m not sure but I _think_ he’s really into flowers.”  


Eugene nods as though he’s acutely thinking about it.  


“Is it for a special occasion?”  


He’s smirking now, his dark eyes glinting in amusement.  


The young man grins right back at him. “Ya bet it is. It’s our six month anniversary today.”  


Eugene bends his head slightly to the side. “I see. It’s a major occasion. Maybe we should go for the big stuff then.”  


His customer can’t help but wince slightly. “Yeah, about that. I’m kinda on a tight budget ya know. College student an’ all that.”  


Eugene’s eyes sparkle. “I’m sure we’ll think of something.”  


Then he walks around the counter and grabs the other man by the hem of his shirt. “C’me here” he says before he pulls him closer and kisses him. He feels the redhead go limp against him and it makes him smile into the kiss, knowing he is the one who has that effect on Babe.  


They kiss slowly, lazily – used to each other, to the touch of the other, but never getting enough of it.  


Gene takes Babe’s lower lip between his before he pulls away, eliciting a noise of protest from the younger man.  


“By the way” he says smugly against his lips, his breath warm on Edward’s skin, “I beat you to it.”  


“What the fuck are ya goin’ on about, Gene. Just shut up an’ kiss me again” Edward wines, jerking forward to reach his lips as he really pulls away this time. Eugene laughs and goes behind the counter before he takes a box out from under it and hands it to him.  


“Open it” he says as the redhead stands still, staring dumbly at him. He feels extremely anxious suddenly, squirming and biting his nails without realising it. He’s a nervous person, he’s always known it and sometimes he isn’t even aware how much it shows.  


“Gene.”  


“What?”  


“Stop eatin’ at ya hands.”  


“Sorry.”  


“It’s okay.”  


They fall silent then, Edward carefully opening the box. When he sees what’s inside, a bewildered laugh escapes him. “I can’t fuckin’ believe ya” he grunts, but there’s a smile blossoming on the corner of his lips.  


Eugene’s smirk is back on his face. He walks over to him and embraces him from behind, kissing him lightly on the neck.  


“Thought you would like it.”  


“Ya’re such an asshole” Edward says, but he’s grinning as he pulls the flower crown out and places it on his head before turning around. His smile is dashing.  


“How do I look?” he asks, batting his eyelids ridiculously.  


“Like the fairest of them all” Eugene answers with a straight face.  


“Fuck ya” Edward bites, but the smile doesn’t leave his lips.  


Eugene takes his hand in his and presses slightly.  


“Those are forget-me-not” he tells him quietly, pointing at the blue flowers. “They mean ‘to remember forever’. You can see small yellow tulips as well that mean ‘hopelessly in love’.”  


He takes a short input of breath, feeling nervous again. He thinks about all he wants to say but can’t put into words.  


Edward brushes his cheek with the back of his hand and Eugene is immediately filled with immense relief.  


“Happy anniversary, Edward” he mutters, brushing his lips against his in a phantom kiss.  


“I love you” the other man mutters against him before hugging him almost desperately. “I love you so much.”  


Eugene runs a hand through his hair and buries his head in the crook of his shoulder. He could say it back, but he doesn’t need to.  


Eugene doesn’t need words with Edward. He understands him through his looks and his silences, through the work he puts into his flower making. He doesn’t expect anything more – doesn’t want it either.  


Edward makes him feel the way flowers do: appeased and quiet and at peace.  


And he’s find it’s all he ever wanted. 

**Author's Note:**

> first dialogue: 1) "He's straight and that's it. No point in digging further."  
> 2) "It's easier if he is."
> 
> second dialogue: "What do you think?" "I'm not sure. They're full of good intent, but... well, I guess they know him better than we do."
> 
> third dialogue : "When I'm sure, I'll tell you." "I know."
> 
> (you guys can hit me up on my [ tumblr](http://jilying.tumblr.com/) anytime if you wanna chat/cry over bob and other things/ask me anything; love you!!)


End file.
